Storybrooke 90
by horacethepig
Summary: With the former Home Office agents in disarray, recordings of Owen Flynn have been recovered and converted for brain pattern transfer. Joe 90 is sent in to make contact with Storybrooke.
1. Chapter 1: Into Storybrooke

Rights to Once Upon A Time is held by Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz. Those to Joe 90 by the estate of the late Gerry Anderson, Sylvia Anderson, ITC, etc. Rights to other franchises used are owned by: DC Comics/Warner Bros.; Marvel Comics; NOW Comics/Moonstone Books; the BBC; JK Rowling; Jim Butcher; Charles Addams; Terrance Dicks; Joss Whedon; the estates of Peter O'Donnell, Malcolm Saville, Enid Blyton, and Anthony Buckeridge; amongst others. This is a non-profit attempt to play with favourite franchises.

In mid-2014, a secret conference room, a number of delegates were having a "discussion". Whilst the arrival of a community from one or more other dimensions nearly thirty-one years before was hardly news, the destruction of the Home Office as a viable threat (a major backer and all its senior leadership had apparently disappeared with two of their best agents and, more recently, the agents left behind who had continued to use the name had angered Harry Dresden once too often) had led to an opportunity. Some recordings of Owen Flynn had proved transferrable to a remarkable invention.

The greying blonde man chairing the meeting, slim and wiry, rose to his feet. "Ladies and gentlemen," announced Ilya Kuryakin, "Shane Weston of the World Intelligence Network wishes to speak."

"Hear, hear" responded the lithe dark haired beauty a few seats down. "Those protégés of yours are coming on nicely, Shane. Willie states that Sam is almost to his standards. As to young Joe…"

The tall, muscular man with the Detroit accent opposite nodded. "I agree, Modesty. That kid gave me and Kato quite a challenge last year. It's a good job he caught that arms dealer before he ended up catching the Green Hornet as well."

Amidst much laughter, Weston arose. "My friends, we were able to transfer Mr Flynn's brain patterns to the B.I.G.R.A.T. From now on, this is a Project 90 operation.

"We intend to get our Most Special Agent into the population centre, the town square of what the visitors call Storybrooke. From there, he will assess the situation and, hopefully, allow full diplomatic negotiations to begin."

Warm applause started. Many of them had had serious concerns about using a 9 year old boy, albeit with the brain waves and thus memories and abilities of anyone from an astronaut to a top surgeon, from a concert pianist to a test pilot, from an aquanaut to a general transmitted into his head via the "Rat Trap" of his adopted father Ian McClaine's greatest invention, the Brain Impulse Galvanoscope –Record And Transfer, then maintained via those glasses he wore when on assignment. Knock those spectacles off, however, and he would be useless. Two years ago, that is - he is very able himself at eleven! Weston's Anglo-American deputy Sam Loover had arranged for Joe to have training from a number of legends of the crime-fighting, security and intelligence fields. Even the notoriously grumpy Batman had given him some lessons in martial arts and stealth techniques. He seemed to like the boy, well as much as he liked anyone outside of the "Bat" and "Arrow/Canary" families, Superman, Wonder Woman and a few others of their ilk.

The chairman nodded. _Many of the greats of the secret world that keeps everyone safe are here – UNCLE, UNIT, Torchwood, the White Council, SHIELD, SHADO, the W.I.N, IADC, Nemesis, the IMF, the Diogenes Club and many others are represented. Even freelancers like Modesty Blaise and Paul Reid have come – although Modesty works regularly for a variety of British and French departments and Paul is a member of the legendary ruling cabal of the Cobalt Club, not to mention continuing his family's tradition of masked crime-fighting dating back to when John Reid first became the Lone Ranger._

"Just in case," he announced, "Ms Stewart, please stand by to contact your old friend if we need his assistance. Mr Barrett, could you, Ms Macready and Mr Stirling be on standby to provide back-up? You too, Captain Harkness. The same goes for you and Mr Garvin, Ms Blaise. Minister Shacklebolt, your Head Auror will be required, as magical threats are present. Mr Potter's methods can be _a little less extreme_ than his fellow Harry's!

Mr Reid, now that he knows your alter ego is not a gangster, would you and your associate act as liaison for the Council? Also, can you leave for Maine in due course? The Black Beauty would be ideal for an extraction. Thank you!"

"What have you got for me today, Uncle Sam?" asked the freckled boy with sandy hair. Sam Loover, Shane Weston's deputy as director of the W.I.N.'s London branch, had just arrived at Professor Ian McClaine's thatched cottage in Dorset. Mac's adopted son Joseph, at just turned eleven, had been the W.I.N's "Most Special Agent" for almost two years.

"We can discuss this in the laboratory, Joe. Mac, prepare the B.I.G.R.A.T. You two are going on a hike in Maine…"

As the Rat Trap finished spinning and opened with the brain patterns of Owen Flynn now transferred to Joe McClaine, Mac made his usual mutterings about boy miners and chimney sweeps being illegal, but not boy spies. Sam, however, was optimistic that Joe would be able to help devise ways to allow people to locate Storybrooke, before leading his father on "a hiking expedition." _There shouldn't be any trouble, as the "visitors" seem peaceful enough. In any event, how long will even Captain Hook last for against Kono Kato or Willie Garvin? Even in a magical duel with Rumpelstiltskin or the Evil Queen, Harry Potter's no amateur and he, like Willie, is fond of Joe._

The chair having now been lowered out of the Rat Trap, Joe is handed his glasses and school briefcase, with its secret compartments for his W.I.N. identity badge, field communicator, back-up glasses, automatic pistol, silencer and spare ammunition. _I hope he doesn't need anything other the first two items…_

The faux-vintage designed green Jet Air Car landed in the Maine countryside. A lithe masked man in a black chauffer's livery was standing beside a large, equally black sedan a few yards away.

"The boss said you would be here," he noted in a South-East Asian tinged Detroit accent. "Good to see the three of you again".

"Thank you. You too. Where is your employer, anyway?" Mac asked.

"The Green Hornet's at the local base station," Kono Kato replied. "Give us the signal and we'll be ready to roll."

"Thank you, Mr Kato," Sam nodded. "Right, Joe, go in there and befriend the visitors. Use your field communicator to keep in touch. Mac, try and keep him out of trouble. Remember, both of you, be kind to the boy with the book of fairy tales and the scarf and the Evil Queen should not be too much of a problem. I'll look after the car, until we're needed."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam!" Joe raised and lowered the thick, square glasses he was now wearing. "With Mr Flynn's aka Mr Mendel's memories, finding our way in should be easy enough. Come on, Dad!"

"Just relax…" sighed his adoptive father.

Emma Swan looked at Regina Mills. "Oh, two British holiday makers have arrived in town. One's an eleven year old boy, so could you and Henry look after him for a few hours? I can speak to the father."

The mayor shrugged her shoulders at the sheriff. "Sure, how much trouble can a youth be?" Seeing Henry's biological mother's quizzical expression, she grimaced. "This one can't have the heart of the truest believer, can he?"

"No, he can't!" Emma assured her. "He seems a nice, polite, British boy. He is only a year or two younger than Henry. It might be good for him to make a new friend."

Joe was indeed a polite boy, Regina noted happily. The newcomer's occasional tendency to use baffling phrases like "ooh, arrh" and "lovely t'were" aside, he was settling in nicely.

"Do you play 'games' at home, Joe?" asked Henry, pointing to his X-Box.

"I've shot a few bad guys in my time?" _I won't mention the real automatic pistol and live ammunition._

"What's your favourite music?" Henry continued.

"I'm partial to traditional folk. The Yetties were my favourite group, until they retired a few years back. Other than that, classical, jazz, pop, anything really. I have played the piano in public before now." _Well, I did have access to the brain patterns of a concert pianist at the time._ "I also have a particular liking for guitar, synthesizer and saxophone music."

"Mine's soft rock and the standard pop. One Direction, Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez are particular favourites. Their songs are great to listen to when I'm reading my fairy tale book."

Joe managed to conceal his horror. _With any other boy of his age, that would be considered soppy._ "I prefer historical tales – you know, the biographies of Sir Percy, Dr Syn, Don Diego and the like. I have a particular liking for westerns." _OK, they can have romantic episodes, but are basically tales of derring-do._

"Let's go for a walk," Regina suggested.

Joe, seeing the town through both his eyes and Owen Flynn's memories, was feeling somewhat out of his depth. _Give me a rogue general or a charismatic but insane cult leader! Harry Potter and Wednesday Addams are the magical experts, not Agent Joe 90 of the W.I.N! Sure, I have worked with Harry and Wednesday before and they are good friends, but they did the magical stuff. Magical power cannot be transferred via brain waves, in the same way the X-Gene can't! You could download Tabitha Stephens' brainwaves into me for a week and still nothing would happen if I twitch my nose, just like Uncle Jack's won't make me immortal or Uncle Richard's super-powered._

"Do you get many tourists where you live, Joe?" Regina asked.

"Not in Culver Bay, other than fossil hunters exploring the Jurassic coast. Most sun worshippers tend to favour Weymouth, Lulworth Cove, Sandbanks or Bournemouth – Studland's got a large naturist beach, if you like that sort of thing. Egdon Heath's further north."

Joe pulled a tablet from his briefcase and showed them some photographs of Culver Bay and their cottage there. Both his hosts seemed impressed with the homely dwelling and the majestic beauty of the Jurassic Coast.

"What does your father do for a living?" his hostess pressed.

"Research scientist. He specialises in brain waves and jet propulsion." _True._ "Our nearest neighbour is a research chemist in a cottage like ours. In addition, she has her own private island in the bay. Her three cousins and her fellow scientists and so on visit occasionally." _Also true. It's probably best not to mention Aunt George's involvement in paranormal research with Uncle Jon and Uncle Jigger._

Suddenly, a balding man walking two Dalmatians walked past. "Good to see you, Doctor Hopper!" called out Henry brightly. "This is our visitor from England, Joe McClaine".

Joe stepped up. _Jiminy Cricket? This is weird!_ "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise". The man stepped up to Regina and said softly "Is he…?"

Regina sighed. "Only if the Home Office, if it still exists, are recruiting pre-teens, Archie!"

Joe had to stifle a laugh. No he wasn't in what was left of the Home Office (although he currently had access to memories from someone who was). W.I.N. (a merger of various NATO, former Warsaw Pact and other intelligence and security services) didn't care what you could or couldn't do, as long as you didn't endanger global security in the attempt. Harry Potter had even invited him, Mac and Sam over for lunch or dinner after some joint cases over the last few months. Teddy Lupin, five years Joe's senior, was disgusted that the W.I.N. didn't habitually recruit children. _He's sixteen now. Maybe he can join once he's finished Hogwarts? More likely, he'll follow his godfather into the Auror Department. Shame though, he and Victoire Weasley would make good agents._

Apparently, "a nice tea" was not a regular request at Granny's Diner. Indeed, Ruby had misheard his order as "iced tea". _This tepid coloured water is disgusting! She needs to buy herself a hearing aid as, much as, going by Mr Flynn's memories, she needs to buy clothes that do more than just about preserve public decency._

Grace Jefferson and Ava Zimmer were busy telling Joe that, despite his glasses being "seriously uncool", he was "otherwise presentable". _What?! Harry Palmer is as cool as anyone! Good teacher too._ Henry, meanwhile, was drinking a milkshake, as was Nicholas. Both seemed to be enjoying their beverages. _I'll ask for one next time! Goodness only knows what I'll get if I request a jammy dodger or a chocolate hobnob. These cookies are actually tasty, though, so that's not a problem._

Dr Whale came over after speaking to the mayor. _Finally, someone from proper literature, not yet another soppy romance!_ "You are from England, Regina tells me".

 _More so than you are!_ "Yes, Dorset. And yourself? Home Counties?"

"Oxford" came the reply. _Makes sense. Our world's Frankenstein family are from Switzerland and Germany. Many are educated in the six British ancients though._

Killian Jones also came to have a chat with Regina ( _Another proper book – we're on a roll!_ ), showing a very Anglo-Irish combination of charm and swagger. _I must introduce him to Aunt Modesty. She and Uncle Willie were quite the criminals before they retired, from that life anyway_. _The Green Hornet and Mr Kato might get on well with him, too. These people are dangerous, sure, but as long as you don't hurt Henry, they're no threat to anyone. That Home Office, or at least their namesakes, are nothing more than a militia with a vendetta against magic rather than non-WASPs. I must send Harry Dresden a congratulations card, as those thugs and their main headquarters were no great loss to the world._

A Scottish voice sounded from behind him, "Another newcomer, dearie?"

Regina nodded. "Mr Gold, this is Joseph McClaine from England. He and his father went on a hike in the forests of Maine and ended up here."

"McClaine? A fine Scottish surname." He then started to sing "Come O'er the Stream Charlie and Dine wi' Maclean."

Joe laughed. "We spell the surname differently, although I believe my father is distantly descended from the Jacobite in question. I'm adopted, he and my late mother couldn't have kids. One day I got separated from the others on an orphanage expedition and stumbled on Dad's new Jet Air Car. They found me there and a few months later I became a McClaine. We live in Dorset, the family settled there after the Highland Clearances. As far as I'm aware, neither of my late natural parents were Scots, although I barely knew them."

Gold smiled, before adding in a tense whisper, "There is something familiar about you. I thought I sensed an old enemy. Whatever it is, _dearie_ , I'll find it out. Don't do anything that harms me or mine now." He gave a sinister half-smile. "Ye don't want me to do something _ye_ might regret, _do ye now_?"

"Stop scaring everyone, _dearie_!" Regina told him. "I don't remember any old enemy who resembled Joe. How many old enemies who are still boys have you had? Oh, wait, your _father_!" She turned to Joe. "That's an old family joke, Joe!"

Joe was silent. _Rumpelstiltskin is a genuine threat. I don't think he knows the truth. He can't read minds – can he?_

His father, meanwhile, was still talking to Emma Swan down at the Sheriff's Office.

"No, Miss Swan, I do not work with the Home Office. They fund some of my research…"

"What! That evil…"

Mac interrupted her. "What do you have against the Home Secretary of the United Kingdom? Her department is called the Home Office."

"Nothing," Emma groaned. "Not that Home Office!"

"What do you mean?" her 'guest' asked.

Emma changed tack. "You must admit, though, it is odd. We don't get many hikers round here. What are you doing in Maine?"

It was Mac's turn to groan. "We are on holiday. I suppose you think my boy is a superspy working for a major intelligence organisation…?" _Never fails – tell the truth in a dry tone and they think you're being sarcastic._

"Of course not, professor. Would you like to stay for a few days?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

Henry was rather enjoying having a new friend. Sure, Joe was a couple of years or so younger and rather quiet and reserved. _He's used to keeping secrets!_

Joe was thinking along similar lines. _For a boy who also briefly experienced care and is a year or so older than me, he is unbelievably naïve. You would have thought being kidnapped by the Home Office and carted off to Neverland might have knocked some sense into him. Still, he's pleasant company and has a good heart. I was like that two years ago. Actually, for an Evil Queen, his Mum's really nice. Maybe I should try and set her up with Dad? Vastly better than that ghastly foreign spy who was sent to seduce him a couple of years back._


	2. Chapter 2: Friends Old and New

Once he had retired to his room, Joe checked the door to his room was closed and opened his case. He pulled out a small mirror case and opened it. Harry Potter's old friend Hermione Weasley had cast a spell of her own creation on the mirror, which would make the reflection cloudy in the presence of monitoring charms. _It's clear! Now for this watch MI6's Q-Branch provided – twist the dial case like so and – green light, not red. The bug detector's clear! Now to get my communicator out of its secret compartment._ "Joe 90 to Emerald Wasp, Joe 90 to Emerald Wasp…"

A familiar mellow voice sounded. "Hello Joe love! Are you well?"

"Aunt Modesty! I was expecting our non-gangster! Fine thank you. And you?"

"Very well indeed to know you are safe, my dear. Willie's with me."

"Right, Princess," a deeper voice came over the device, in a distinct cockney. "'Ello, Joe."

"Good to hear your voice again, Uncle Willie."

A third voice came over the telephone. This one was calmly amiable, with a slight Yorkshire accent. "Good evening, Joe. How are the locals treating you?"

"Very well, Uncle Richard. They seem really friendly, unless you hurt my new friend Henry. If I didn't know better, I would have assumed Mr Flynn to be remembering some different group of people entirely. They just happen to look and sound identical. I guess someone who takes pictures of food must have some issues. Are Uncle Craig and Aunt Sharon with you?"

"Not yet, Joe," Richard Barrett replied. Since the death of old Tremayne some years before, Richard had been Director of Nemesis. Not that he had retired from active duty on gaining the post. Ever since that ill-starred mission to Tibet all those years before, Richard Barrett, Craig Sterling and Sharon Macready had come as a package deal, particularly when one knew the real reason for their now legendary success rate. "They should be here tomorrow. As you know, Sam Loover's already here. Jack Harkness and Harry Potter are coming with Craig and Sharon. Wednesday Addams is also on her way to join us."

"Great! The more the merrier!"

"Good," the warm light baritone of Paul Reid declared, rather different to the Green Hornet's deeper, more commanding tone. "Will you check in again tomorrow morning, Joe?"

"Same time tomorrow, Mr Hornet. Joe 90 over and out!"

His interrogation with Emma Swan finished (her excuse being some alleged thefts), Mac was now staying with Killian Jones on the _Jolly Roger_. The rocking of the waves was not a problem for the experienced mariner and working with Sam and Joe had introduced him to far worse characters than the former Captain Hook.

"The sheriff is coming for a pleasure cruise tomorrow, Professor. Along with her boy, the mayor and your boy, of course." The pirate had just descended from the main mast, whilst Mac was finishing scrubbing the deck.

"Thank you, Mr Jones," Mac replied. "Do you know if he's all right"?

"Aye, I saw him just a couple of hours back. Regina and Henry Mills seem to be looking after him well. He's a good kid from what I could judge. Oh, and call me Killian."

"Good to meet you, Killian. Call me Mac!"

The duo exchanges smiles, before descending into the galley to prepare a hearty supper.

In a nearby clearing, a soft voice was saying "So, Owen and Tamara left enough information for us to locate and enter Storybrooke?"

"Yes, brothers and sisters," a deeper, resonant basso profundo stated. "That Dresden menace may have taken us down, but if we can get into that den of vipers, all may not be lost. They may have the means to extirpate all magic from this world!

"Before that however, we must kill as many men and women, from the oldest super-centenarian they have to any baby born this very day, as we can. Then the library and the Dark One's shop will be ours to search and study at our leisure."

Paul Reid, now in the green trench coat, fedora and domino mask of the Green Hornet, sat in the back of the Black Beauty. "Is the satellite link to the Cobalt Club in place, Kono-san?"

"Yes, Paul," Kono Kato replied, dressed in the black chauffeur's outfit, peaked cap and domino mask. "Our uncles should be in position now."

A switch flicked on the dashboard later, images of the interior of a gentleman's club appeared on the screens in both the front and back of the Black Beauty. The Cobalt Club, like the Diogenes Club in London, was ostensibly just what it claimed to be. There were, however, rooms within which were set aside to allow those believed to be urban legends (the cloak and cowl brigade), the secret agents, the private detectives, the gentlemen thieves and adventurers and so on to meet in secret and do business in private. This room was one of these. Kent Allard in his Lamont Cranston identity was talking with Clark Savage junior, Richard Wentworth, Richard Henry Benson, Tony Quinn, Prince Zarkon and Jethro Dumont ( _clearly a senior council meeting_ ). Johnny Littlejohn was discussing his latest archaeological dig with Indiana Jones. Philo Vance was discussing orchids with Nick Charles and Nero Wolfe. Their various methods of delaying the onset of age were clearly effective – Kent looked very young for 120-odd. _Mind you, Craig, Richard, Sharon, Modesty and Willie don't look seventy-plus! They say the first three have barely aged a day since Tibet and Mr Holmes' Royal Jelly is working a treat on the other two._ Talking of Sherlock Holmes, he was at a quiet table under his regular assumed name of William Escott. He was a guest of Doc and the Shadow, both of whom he had mentored, not to mention his sons Philo and Nero. The great man's old friend Doctor Watson was opposite. _You would never guess the detective turned 160 in January and the medic is turning 162 in a few days_.At the bar, Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen were discussing business ( _the sort that involves batarangs and arrows presumably_ ). Dick Grayson was rolling his eyes affectionately at his adoptive father whilst showing Roy Harper baby photos on his tablet. Matt Murdock was talking animatedly to Peter Parker ( _I'm guessing the Kingpin's up to his old tricks_!). Nick Fury was downing beers with Derek Flint, Napoleon Solo and a visiting James Bond. Tony Stark was arm-wrestling Steve Rogers. Finally, his and Kono's uncles were smiling in the foreground. Back in the 1960s, media magnate Britt Reid of the Daily Sentinel Group and his long-time valet and chauffeur Hayashi Kato had been the second members of their respective families to become the Green Hornet and his nameless enforcer.

"All set for going in, Paul?" his uncle asked him. "Hayashi and I can confirm the club has received confirmation from Captain Harkness that he, Mr Potter, Ms Macready and Mr Stirling have arrived in the States and should be with you tomorrow. Ms Addams is also on her way, as are Ms Romanov and Ms Prince. Mr Dresden has been persuaded by the White Council to sit this one out, as have the Slayers by Mr Giles. Good thing too, although Ms Rosenberg may have been effective. Ms Summers is about as suited to diplomacy as Mr Dresden is."

"That's good, Uncle Britt," replied his concert pianist nephew. "Hi, Hayashi-san. Yes, Kono and I are ready for when young Joe signals."

"Uncle, Britt, Paul," Kono noted, "The Hornet Scanner's Aerial Scout has been picking up signs of movement on the other side of the zone. Do we intervene?"

"Not yet, Kono-san," his uncle answered, "it may be returning Visitors. Britt?"

"We have nothing to suggest that they are hostile, old friend. Your call, Paul!"

"Ignore them for now, Kono. I'll send an emergency contact signal to that watch Q Branch issued Joe. Richard, Sam, Modesty and Willie will need to be informed."

"Uncle, Hayashi, always a pleasure!"

After a volley of goodnights and Paul agreeing to stand as godfather for Dick and Barbara Grayson's new-born daughter ( _Bruce will be pleased – Batgirl on maternity leave_!), the call ended.

"Right, Kono. There's nothing we further we can do, other than return to base.

"Let's roll, Kato!"

"Right, boss!"

Now from within the boundaries of Storybrooke, that resonant bass sounded again. "My friends, the hour of our triumph is at hand! The natives of this world have returned here in triumph, to eternally banish the evils of magic from this planet!

"Today, Storybrooke falls. Within a year, the White Council and all other magical bodies should be no more. The secrets of removing magic are here, I feel it in my soul.

"Onwards then to certain victory!"

His supporters cheered as they set off for Storybrooke.

Joe awoke the next morning. Yellow light on the dial? Someone wishes to contact me!

After retrieving his communicator from the relevant secret compartment of his briefcase, Joe once again found himself speaking to his friends at "Base Camp", a secret underground bunker built during the Cold War. Craig Stirling had been on the panel testing security and it was he who had suggested Richard Barrett obtain it from the United States government after the collapse of the Soviet Union. His old friend had agreed, knowing one entrance was a few miles from the anomaly.

"Kono Kato has detected a number of unexpected visitors within the incursion zone. Keep your eyes peeled for any possible former Home Office agents and let us know, as soon as it is safe to do so, if there are any potential threats, Joe!" Richard's voice was still calm and reassuring, but without the usual dry wit. "We could be with you in thirty to forty-five minutes of you calling us. If you and your new friends can keep them occupied for that time, hopefully you should all be fine. Oh, Wonder Woman and the Black Widow will also be joining us."

"Cool. Wait, Natasha? Colonel Fury doesn't let her out to play very often, unless we're really on a sticky wicket!"

His "uncle" laughed in response, the wry humour returning to his tone. "No, but he would be, and I quote 'damned if a Homeland Security mission in the US of A took place without SHIELD getting in on the action.'"

"Well, Mr Kato, Uncle Willie, Aunt Modesty and Aunt Emma are the only non-powered martial artists on a par with her I've encountered."

"You should have seen Kono's uncle in his prime, Joe. Natasha Romanoff is on a different level to most others, agreed. Maybe that grumpy vigilante in Gotham, his seemingly endless supply of protégées or that equally charming Canadian mutant could match her? Admittedly, the latter is powered, but then you could argue that she is as well. Fu Manchu's son certainly can beat her. That said, if we're on a sticky, we need the best spinner. Who better than a spider?"

"Wouldn't a spinner be more useful on a Bunsen, and a pace bowler on a sticky, Uncle Richard?"

"Probably, Joe, but the point about spiders stands!"

"Dad!" Joe cried out happily, hugging Mac on the dock. "I've missed you!"

"Likewise, Joe, likewise. I believed you have met my host?"

"Yes, Dad. Oh, where are my manners? These are mine, Regina Mills and her adopted son, Henry. This is my adoptive father, Professor Ian McClaine."

"Nice to meet you both. Call me Mac!"

"Hi, Mac! I'm Regina!" She thought for a moment. "Joe's a good kid. Real friendly and polite. You must be so proud of him."

"More than you can know, Regina." Until you are recognised by the Council, anyway.

"Joe says you are a research scientist with an interest in brain waves and jet engines. That can't be a usual combination."

"Amongst others." Anxious to avoid further questioning, he spotted with some relief Emma hurrying along the dock. "Ah, here comes the last member of our party. Are we ready for sail, skipper?"

"Aye, Mac," Killian confirmed. "Good to see you all again, especially you Swan."

"Good to see you too, Captain!" Emma retorted. "Hello, Joe, we only met briefly yesterday. We can have a proper chat now."

"We can indeed, Sheriff," Joe replied. "Henry's being telling me all about you…"

"All good, I hope!" Emma interrupted.

"No, Swan, Henry's been telling everyone you are a psychotic, homicidal child-molester!" Regina interjected.

"No, Mom, I've been telling Joe you are the joint-best Mom in all the world!" Henry reassured her.

"A very diplomatic answer, Henry!" Joe complimented him. "Well, the best Dad in all the world is also with us!"

"Spare my blushes, Joe!" Mac commented in return.

"So, have you been camping before, Joe?" Emma asked.

"Of course, Ms Swan. This is my first time in Maine, though," Joe confirmed. "Did you sort out that business with my dad?"

"Yes, I did."

"Can we still stay a few days?" Joe asked innocently.

"I don't see why not," Regina assured him. "Henry always needs some more young company."

The "cruise" may have been a short sail into the harbour, round the bay and back again. Still, it was great to be back at sea. Growing up on the coast, he regularly took the short boat ride from Culver Bay to Kirrin Island. His 'Aunt' George ran a paranormal research centre from there, linked up with those of her co-directors, Jon Warrender (a physicist based at The Gay Dolphin Hotel in Rye) and "Jigger" Johnson (a biologist and animal whisperer from the outskirts of London). They regularly met up alongside the likes of Jon's wife Penny (or "Newpenny" as Jon called her on account of her red hair) who was the Gay Dolphin's manager; Jon and Penny's journalist friend Richard Morton of The Clarion; George's three cousins; and Jigger's own journalist friend Rex Milligan. The latter was called the "British Kolchak", due to his chasing of suspected monsters and super-villains. He would then record his exploits with a uniquely breathless stream-of-consciousness writing style, frequently relapsing into the weird slang only used by current and former pupils of such celebrated educational establishments as Sheldrake Grammar School and Linbury Court Preparatory School. _Uncle Rex is the only Muggle with a regular column in The Quibbler for a reason. I wonder if the wizards have worked out what the monthly "Most Addle-Pated Clodpoll Award" is actually for yet. He would give his right arm to be surrounded by real life fairy tale characters. As he would put it, "Crystallised cheesecakes!"_ At least, he had managed to mention Gold's strange threat to his dad, who had warned him to be careful _. I'll be alright, Dad. Just sit back and relax…_

Regina, Emma and Henry were also enjoying the cruise. It was good to see Joe get more excitable in his father's presence. He was also a boy who clearly enjoyed the action and hard work of sailing. "He'll make a true Sea Dog," Killian had opined to them.

There was, however, something that made Emma pause. _There's something going on here. Why are they here? What are they up to? There's more to these two than meets the eye. Regina mentioned that Gold had delivered Joe some cryptic threat. Apparently he recognised him as somehow connected to an old foe. What did he mean? Which of his old enemies? How are they linked? Regina got the impression Gold didn't know himself._

That wasn't her only concern. _I can feel deep in my bones a sense of utter dread. These aren't the only visitors we'll be having in Storybrooke, I fear. And I suspect, unlike Joe and Mac, some of these will be openly hostile and very dangerous._


	3. Chapter 3: A Good Boy Goes to War

It was late-evening in Storybrooke. Joe, Mac, Regina, Emma and Henry were in Granny's Diner. This time Joe ordered a milkshake. _Much better! The cookies are even better today too_.

Suddenly, a large cry resounded from outside. David and Mary Margaret ( _Prince Charming and Snow White_ , Joe thought, _and Emma's parents as well!_ ) entered with Neal in his pram, alongside Belle and Mr Gold. "We are under attack by some people with guns," David announced. "Only a few injured so far."

All the patrons in the Diner moved towards the windows. Well, almost all did. Joe held back long enough to press a hidden button on his Q-Branch watch, which flashed a black light to say signal sent, the yellow one to acknowledge contact and then a continuous white one to indicate the homing device inside was now active. That done, he picked up his briefcase and joined the others.

"We must get to the sheriff's office pronto!" Emma urged. "It's more secure there."

They left Granny's and hurried towards Emma's workplace.

Two gunmen came into view. Joe, still having access to Owen Flynn's memories, recognised them. _Former "Home Office" members! This is serious!_

The gunmen started taking aim at the group. "Stay sill and surrender, invaders! All magic users must die!"

Before anyone else could react, Joe opened the relevant secret compartment on the exterior of his briefcase, removed his automatic and shot the two gunmen, the first between the eyes and the second through the heart. Their lifeless bodies slumped to the ground.

Emma stared at him. " _Really…?_ " She turned to Regina and her parents. "I did just see that?"

"Yes, Sheriff." Joe produced his W.I.N. badge from its secret compartment. "Most Special Agent Joseph McClaine of the World Intelligence Network. Codename: Joe 90."

"Wait," Emma turned to Mac. "You were telling the truth? He _is_ a spy?"

"Yes, Ms Swan." Mac looked regretful. "My experiments in brain waves and patterns allowed me to invent a machine that allows one person to absorb the memories and skills of another. Unfortunately, my best friend works for an intelligence agency and he introduced me to his boss. Mr Weston may be many good things, but he spotted the opportunity to turn _my_ boy, then only nine, into the perfect secret agent.

"Now, I heartily wish I had never researched the subject. Sam Loover, my friend, has arranged for Joe to receive training from a number of greats in the intelligence and counter-intelligence field. Knock those glasses off him and he loses the memories and skills of the other person, so such training keeps him safe, but…"

"You don't want me in danger, Dad," Joe acknowledged. "Being a spy is fun. Besides you never brought me up to sit idly by when others need me."

Joe turned to the others. "We were sent into Storybrooke by a council consisting of representatives from many organisations. The former Home Office agents are in a bad way at the moment, after they managed to offend a truly powerful wizard. We were able to find recordings of Mr Flynn from which we extracted sufficient brain patterns for me to gain his memories up to that point."

"I said I sensed something of an old enemy about you!" Mr Gold commented drily. "Admittedly, I didn't sense that! If Victor were here, he would be crowing about science being better than magic!"

"This Council," Joe continued, "is a sort of assembly of security and intelligence agencies. They wish to make official contact with you, if you mean us no harm. Unless we harm Henry here, you won't attack us.

"These men," he indicated the deceased, "are from what is left of the old Home Office. Luckily, I've signalled some friends, who should be with us shortly."

He retrieved his communicator from the briefcase and switched it to active. "Joe 90 to Emerald Wasp. Repeat, Joe 90 to Emerald Wasp."

Modesty Blaise's warm, mellow, slightly exotic voice came through. "Joe-love, we're on our way. The Black Beauty shall launch the attack in about thirty minutes, once we are all in position. Just hold on!"

"Thank you, Aunt Modesty! Is everyone with you?"

"Yes, Joe. Natasha and Diana both arrived a couple of hours ago. That's long enough for them to get ready for battle."

"That's good to know. Joe 90 over and out." He looked up at his companions. "Can we hold them off until my friends can arrive?"

Emma took charge. "Right, no time to reach the office. Let's head to the forest!"

They ran, Mary Margaret disappearing into her and David's home to retrieve her crossbow and his sword. Henry refused to go inside. "I'll be safer with all of you with me," he pointed out, "and so will Neal."

Joe looked around, as they reached the forest. Whilst no Lord Greystoke or Phantom, he had picked up some woodcraft skills (the various members of the old Lone Pine Club had taught him how to survive in the Great Outdoors, even without the brain patterns of a survivalist), plus Owen Flynn had done some camping. _That's how this whole business started. Gosh, that Evil Queen has changed since!_ There, they found several military-looking vehicles and a group of residents pinned down under heavy artillery fire. Killian, Ruby, Granny Lucas, the dwarfs, Archie Hopper, the Tillman/Zimmers, the Jeffersons, Dr Whale… All were there.

" _Seriously…?_ " Emma asked. "Do these anti-magic morons ever stop?"

"No," Joe muttered, "they don't. They want all magic gone from this world."

"Well," Regina chuckled darkly, "let's remind them why they fear it!" She conjured a number of fire balls which became a blazing inferno when launched into the Home Office front lines. "Let's show the gunmen what _real_ fire is like!"

Emma nodded, mixing magic and gunfire. Her father started on nearby Home Office fighters with his sword and her mother kept firing bolts from her crossbow. Killian followed David's example. Gold also starting hurling curses. Granny and Ruby produced their own crossbows and started shooting. Ava was punching and kicking out enthusiastically at any foe who came within range. _She has promise_ , Joe mused, _but it needs refining. Something to think about for later?_ Joe's own automatic was firing so fast, it was almost producing trace!

The opposition, however, was better armed. Seeing they were under attack, they upgraded the bombardment to rockets and grenades. One large projectile shot over Mary Margaret's head to explode on impacting the ground thirty feet behind her. " _Seriously…?_ Charming, a couple of feet lower and I would have been killed, cremated and had my ashes scattered all at the same time!"

After a grenade came within an equally short distance of removing Killian from existence, Emma said, "I'm out of bullets and getting tired. I can't keep casting. Regina?"

"I'm shattered, too. Gold isn't much better. Mary Margaret, Granny and Ruby are almost out of bolts. Young Ava seems to be tiring too. At least, she's slowing down her Ronda Rousey tribute act! Joe?"

"I've just started my last clip. Not that my automatic's much use against their heavy artillery.

"By my watch, we've had almost thirty minutes. Help should be here soon."

Modesty's voice came over the communicator almost at that very instant. "We're in position now, Joe-love." Then Joe heard the Green Hornet's command of "Let's roll, Kato!"

From behind the Home Office Lines came a harsh electronic buzzing, like a gigantic swarm of bees or wasps. Two green lights then shone out of the darkening sky. To most of the Storybrooke residents, the Detroit underworld was of as much interest as the English county cricket or rugby scores. Even Emma was not overly familiar with the urban legend of the two man crime wave that had terrorised Detroit since Paul Reid's Great-Uncle Britt (editor of the Daily Sentinel newspaper his brother and namesake nephew had subsequently expanded into the media empire of today) first donned that legendary green trench coat in the mid-1930s, alongside Kono's grandfather Ikano Kato. The Home Office men, however, were another story. "That's the Black Beauty!" cried the bass voice of their leader. "What's the Green Hornet doing in Maine?"

The outline of the large black car was coming closer, with a smaller car behind it. The familiar shape to Joe and Mac, but not the others, of the latter's Jet Air Car was in the sky above. Also approaching by air was what appeared to be a figure piloting an invisible plane flanked by two persons on broomsticks.

"The Hornet, two sorcerers and Wonder Woman!" the leader shouted. "What in God's name…?"

Before he could finish, a hail of rockets fired from the Black Beauty reduced their heavy artillery to ash. A nozzle then extended through the sedan's front grill and a green nerve gas was released from it to send some of the Home Office into blissful unconsciousness. Then it came to a halt and from each side two figures emerged. Modesty Blaise and Kono Kato, both lithe, got out the front and the tall and stocky forms of Willie Garvin and the Green Hornet exited the back.

In what seemed like a few seconds, the remaining Home Office members were finding out what is was like to be under heavy assault. The Hornet's associate seemed to be everywhere at once, leaping, high-kicking, karate chopping, throwing darts and taking out opponents left, right and centre. His senior partner was firing his gas gun with his right hand, whilst landing many a solid left hook. Willie was tearing into the Home Office front lines like a rabid bulldog, only stopping to accurately hurl another knife from his chest harness into a hapless foe. Modesty was kicking out with her legs, whilst hitting out with the kongo in her left hand and firing her MAB Brevete automatic with her right.

By now, the second car had parked. The tall figures of the dark-haired Craig Stirling, the brown-haired Richard Barrett and the blonde Sharon Macready exited. With speeds scarcely believable, they ran at their foes, snatching up the men and women one-handed, before throwing them several feet into the distance. Seeing a person leap several feet to tackle an opponent to the ground with the force of a bulldozer was quickly giving the former Home Office agents something to think about.

Wonder Woman instructed her invisible jet to circle on auto-pilot, before leaping into the air and gliding on the currents to the ground. She proceeded to crash into her opponents like a human battering ram, deflecting bullets with her bracelets before hurling her tiara like a boomerang. Her fellow raven-haired, also seemingly ageless, companion Wednesday Friday Addams had landed, shrunk and put away her broomstick, then began to cause chaos by waving a wand here, muttering an incantation there, gesturing with her other hand, twitching her nose, even producing a sword seemingly from nowhere from time to time. The tall dark-haired Harry Potter was remaining air-born, shooting through the sky at top speed, pointing his wand from above whilst barking spells. The sight of Wednesday eviscerating one of their number with her sword, whilst another fell to the green glow of a killing curse cast from on high, concentrated the minds of their foes.

With the Jet Air Car having returned to land travel, it came to a halt. Sam Loover came down from the driver's seat, an automatic similar to Joe's in one hand. Captain Jack Harkness disembarked from the front passenger seat, long blue coat billowing in the wind, his heavy old service revolver firmly held in a two-handed grip. The cat-suited red-headed form of Natasha Romanoff leapt down from the rear, a pistol in each hand. Covered by sharp shooting from the two men, the Black Widow was fighting her way towards the trapped Storybrooke folk, using both pistols, martial arts and the famed Widow's Bites to cut through the terrified opposition as easily as a knife through butter.

By now, a panic had spread through what was left of the Home Office forces. Sorcerers were bad enough (particularly the two who had just arrived), but Wonder Woman, the Black Widow and the Green Hornet were way out of their league, to say nothing of the other new arrivals. Barely pausing to wonder why Detroit's most wanted were collaborating with heroes, most fled into the night.

The leader, however, had beckoned his most loyal supporters forward. By now, Modesty and Willie had reached the Storybrooke residents. Joe could barely resist a chuckle at seeing them either side of Killian Jones. _Talk about poachers turned gamekeepers! They could be a good influence, if he lets them after this._

After seeing Willie draw and throw a knife one-handed twenty feet straight into the jugular vein of a gunman whilst using his other hand to snap an arm with minimal effort, Killian was impressed. "Good show, matey! You fight like a pirate!"

"Funny that, _matey_ ," came the rejoinder. " _You_ fight like an ex-thief turned spy!"

Meanwhile, Wednesday, seeing a foe with an automatic about to shoot her before she could cast a spell, was relieved when a flying tiara knocked his gun hand skywards. "Diana, merci beaucoup!"

Diana laughed. "Well, I didn't want to break the news of your passing to your family. You know, Morticia always reminds me of my mother!"

Another killing curse cast from above finished off another enemy before he could open fire on them. "Chat later, ladies!" Harry called down to them. "Don't you know there's a war on?"

"Da," agreed Natasha, fighting her way towards them. "Neither myself nor Harry would want to have to deliver the black envelopes, nyet?"

Richard, with a thirty-five foot leap, vaulted the opposition line, landing beside Regina, who stared at him in shock. "I didn't know the people of this world could do that," she told him.

"Have you ever heard of establishing diplomatic relations, Ms Mills?" Richard asked dryly. "If you had done so thirty years back, you might have learnt about the shadowy individuals and organisations that keep everyone safely ignorant." He pointed first to Wednesday and then Harry. "Some have magic not necessarily inferior to yours." This time he indicated Diana, Jack, Natasha, Craig and Sharon. "Others are gifted, by birth or design, with abilities far beyond the norm." A final gesture covered Sam, Paul and Kono. "Finally, some others, by dint of practice and sheer dedication can make themselves almost superhuman."

"A good point," Regina agreed. "Perhaps, once this fight is finished, you could negotiate with the Storybrooke authorities?"

"That is our intention," he assured her. "We come in peace, unlike this other lot."

The leader of the Home Office faction, Gerald Dursley as Joe recalled ( _related to Harry's uncle?_ ) fired a machine gun apparently at random. Henry, however, was directly in the line of fire. Time seemed to stand still, until Jack dived into the path, taking the entire volley, before falling dead to the ground. Dursley yelped at a sharp pain in his hands, his weapon destroyed by a mid-range blast from the Hornet Sting. Regina and Emma charged at the man. Emma then held him down, whilst Regina plucked out his heart. "No-one shoots at _my_ son!" " _Our_ son, Regina!" Emma added. "Now, finish him off!" Her friend nodded, before turning to Dursley and saying "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Let me show you how it's _really_ done!" She then crushed his heart to a powder before his eyes, killing him instantly.

Mary Margaret turned to Joe. "I'm sorry, Joe. Was he a friend of yours?"

" _Is_ he?" Joe corrected her, as Jack took a deep breath, opened his eyes and sat up. The bullet holes in his body were already closing up. "Yes, he is."

" _Really…?"_ Mary Margaret asked in shock. "Where did you find your friends, Joe?"

Regina pulled Jack into a hearty embrace, before passing him to Emma who did the same. " _Hello, ladies!_ " the captain exclaimed in his most suggestive tone. " _Jack…!_ " cried his fellow defenders in unison. "I'm just saying hello!" he responded grinning.

By this time, Henry was being held tight by both his Moms. The remainder of the elite troops had been knocked out by the Widow's Bites, the Hornet gas gun, Wonder Woman's tiara and stun hexes from Harry and Wednesday. The battle was over.

"Party time!" Killian cried happily. "Granny's?"

"It's late, captain," Regina observed, "and we are all exhausted. Let's celebrate tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4: Charm Offensive

The next day dawned. For captured Home Office agents, held in crowded cells at the Sheriff's office under a still furious Emma Swan, this was not a happy morning.

For Henry, his other Mom was into full-on "mothering mode." She was busy making his favourite foods and embracing him warmly every time she saw him.

At one point, Henry had the pleasure of looking out of his window and seeing Sharon Macready sunbathing in a skimpy bikini and Modesty Blaise doing the same, only with her bikini top on the ground beside her. As she was lying on her back at the time, he got quite the eyeful.

"Those friends of yours are hot!" he announced to Joe. Joe looked out the window in the direction Henry was pointing.

"One of Aunt Modesty's regular combat strategies she calls 'The Nailer,'" he recalled, pointing at the topless woman. "She bares her breasts to distract her foes. Guaranteed to work on any straight male, lesbian or bisexual! Unless she's working with Mr Solo or Commander Bond, who tend to be equally distracted, or Alex Rider, who keeps comparing her favourably to Ms Pleasure, it's a personal favourite of hers."

"What about you?"

"Oh, I was barely ten when she first used it in my presence. It distracted our opponents, but I blushed a deep crimson and avoided her for about six weeks. I'm used to it now."

Joe paused. "Did you know she and Uncle Willie began as small-time thieves, rose to become the head and deputy head of one of the largest crime fraternities in the world, retired before they were thirty and were 'recruited' by Sir Giles Tarrant, head of an obscure MI6 department? That was nearly fifty years ago."

"No, I didn't. That's cool! Wait, _she's eighty_?"

"About seventy-five or seventy-six I think, she was raised an orphan in a Greek refugee camp during the Second World War." He indicated the other sunbather. "Aunt Sharon's about seventy herself!"

"Wow! What beauty treatment do they use? I must get some for my Moms and Grandma."

"Aunt Sharon has barely aged since she, Uncle Richard and Uncle Craig crashed landed in Tibet in the late 1960s. At least half-dead, they were revived by an ancient civilisation and given special powers, some of which you saw last night. Aunt Modesty and Uncle Willie were given access to Sherlock Holmes' Royal Jelly treatment. The Great Detective derived this from exposing bees to both a certain plant and dust from a meteorite that crashed near an English village. The jelly can both restore and prolong youth. Natasha Romanoff, the red-head in the tight cat-suit, was genetically engineered by her former Soviet paymasters, one of the effects slows her ageing. Diana, Wonder Woman, the lady in the swimsuit, is a member of the borderline immortal all-female Amazon Tribe from Greco-Roman mythology. Somehow, a race of humanoids arrived near Mount Olympus about four millennia ago, from a realm similar to your Mom's. Apparently, it is connected to the US Air Force's StarGate programme, although I'm not sure how. These became the gods and goddesses of Ancient Greece. Their demi-god descendant Heracles raped another one, named Hippolyta. She fled with her tribe and was led by the goddesses to an island in the Bermuda Triangle. That was three and a half millennia ago and Hippolyta is still their queen. Her daughter Diana has been "visiting the World of Men," as she puts it, in times of great need, first in the 1940s, then the 1970s and again in the last few years. Witches and wizards age slowly too – Wednesday and Harry are in their late fifties and mid-thirties respectively. Jack, the bloke who took that machine gun burst for you, is comfortably over two thousand!"

"Are you really…?"

"Yes, Henry," Joe said through laughter. "I really did celebrate my eleventh birthday last month!

"Being trained by all these legendary figures is an honour. When I'm old enough, maybe they'll give me, Dad and Uncle Sam the Royal Jelly treatment? Just think, a few centuries of service to the world!"

The two boys popped into the Sheriff's office. Emma was busy interrogating one of the Home Office agents. "What was your plan?" she asked.

"To scour this place for the secret of ridding this world of magic!" the man (a Scrubb per Owen Flynn's memories – as far as Joe was aware, no relation to Susan Pevensie's late cousin) shouted. "Then we would have exterminated you like the vermin you are!"

"May I remind you," Joe interrupted, "what happened to the Daleks? Do you really want _him_ coming after you? The Torchwood head your late leader gunned down is a personal friend of the Doctor's. _He_ is way out of your league!"

The man grinned and stood up. He then threw his shackled hands over Joe's neck and pressed the chain against his throat. "You won't say that, now you are my ticket out of here."

Joe grabbed Scrubb's arms, ducked down and, in a Judo move Emma Peel had taught him, twisted his wrists and torso, then let go. His opponent was sent head-first into a filing cabinet and knocked out cold.

"You have got to teach me that, Joe!" Henry begged him.

" _Seriously…?_ " Emma sighed. "You must be a parent's worst nightmare, Joe."

"Actually, knowing the scrapes you chaps get into, teaching Henry, Grace, Nicholas and Ava a few martial arts moves might not be a bad idea," Joe noted. "I'll speak to Kono Kato and see if he can arrange something for you."

"Thanks, Joe!" Henry beamed.

"No problem. A working knowledge of at least one from karate, judo, aikido, ju-jitsu, krav maga or kung-fu may give you an advantage in a fight. Better to fight with fists or feet than a weapon you can't operate. From what I saw, Ava should be a natural. No wonder all the witches were scared of Gretel!

"Perhaps your mothers could teach you some magic?"

"No!" Henry stated forcefully. "Magic keeps turning people dark, like my grandad and my other Mom."

"Maybe I should speak to Wednesday Addams?" Joe mused. "She would be happy to introduce you to Tabitha Stephens or at least one of the Charmed Ones, if she is unable to give you lessons herself. Use any advantage in a fight, Henry. Not all types of magic are corrupting.

"Trust me, I've got to know Harry and Wednesday well over the last year. Like your other Mom is now, they will only attack you if you give them cause."

Henry considered the matter. He nodded his agreement to Joe's suggestion.

 _Maybe I should ask for a crash course in sorcery?_ Emma mused. _It would be cool to be able to conjure up a sword from nowhere, not to mention very useful in this town._

That night, there was a grand celebration at Granny's Diner. Modesty, Willie and Killian were exchanging tales of their misspent youths. Jack was throwing in the odd exploit from his time as a con artist and Paul and Kono relating some of their own "gamekeepers pretending to be poachers" capers.

"If you ever want to take up honest thievery, love," Modesty told Killian, "we have a few contacts in the business. If you wish to join us in the cloak and dagger world, I'm sure we can speak to Sir Giles' old department and put in a good word for you."

"Right, Princess!" Willie agreed. "By the way, matey, how do you cope in the coops o' your realms? There aren't any Bibles to learn the Psalms by 'art."

"We had various forms of religion back home," Killian admitted. "No Bibles in the jailhouses, though!"

Harry and Wednesday were showing off their magic to the young of Storybrooke.

"Young man," Wednesday called to Nicholas, "would you like to become a bunny rabbit for the next few minutes? Don't worry, I'll turn you back."

"You had better, Goth Lady," Ava told her, "otherwise you will learn what Gretel does to witches the hard way!"

"It really is a relatively simple spell to reverse," Harry assured her hurriedly. He did want to get back to Ginny and the kids in one piece!

Dr Whale, having enjoyed the Stowford Press bottles Mac had brought from England perhaps a touch too heartily, approached the smartly-dressed, bespectacled form of Diana Prince. "Hello, I don't recall you present last night."

Diana grinned, then spun round rapidly enough to create a vortex, there was a blinding light accompanied by a thunderclap and the swimsuit-clad figure of Wonder Woman was present.

"Wow!" the medic exclaimed. "How about coming back to my digs for a nightcap? With that figure, you can warm my bed anytime."

Diana turned to the others. "Is this gentleman usually like this?"

"Yes," Ruby confirmed. "He is."

Wonder Woman approached Whale. "I always like a proper man," she purred. She then grabbed him one-handed by the shirt, lifted him up above her head and threw him hard into a wall on the other side of the room. "Superman and Batman are both proper men. Neither of them would even dream of propositioning a good woman in such a manner. As it so happens, I am currently in a relationship anyway." _Given that my relationship is a ménage a trois with Clark and Lois, I am intimately aware of his seduction technique. Hers too, for that matter!_ _He wouldn't dream of addressing either or both of us like that, not that he would ever need to. From what Selina tells me, Bruce is also perfectly capable of getting her into his bed without a sleazy pick-up line._ She then crossed the room in a handful of strides to kick the unfortunate doctor in a very sensitive spot as he lay semi-conscious on the floor. "Now remember to treat ladies nicely in future!"

Ruby laughed. "Most of us Storybrooke girls have been waiting for that moment for years! Thank you."

The demi-goddess smiled at her warmly. "My pleasure!"

Dancing a sprightly waltz with Natasha made Joe glad Modesty had taught him to dance properly. The SHIELD agent was not a regular trainer, being too busy working for Nick Fury. Whilst SHIELD did supply support to the W.I.N. and vice versa on a regular basis, the taciturn commander was not given to sharing his agents on non-operational matters. Joe was taking the opportunity to spend some time with one of the greats in both armed and unarmed combat.

"Modesty told me you were a fine dancer, Joe," the slender but powerful spy commented in her still Russian inflected American. "I see she was speaking the truth." She had to stoop, almost duck, to allow her shorter partner to keep her hand raised as she twirled. _So graceful even then_ , Joe mused. _This must be what watching Michael Holding bowl in his prime, or David Gower bat in his, was like_.

"Do you know how Colonel Fury is taking the idea of a sovereign state recognised in US territory, Natasha?" Joe asked.

"Yes, as you may imagine, badly."

Joe chuckled. "I can believe that. He can make Diana's old friend in Gotham City resemble a summer sunrise in comparison."

Natasha grinned back. "My fellow redhead Barbara Gordon – well, Grayson now – tells me her old partner in crime-fighting is still in denial at being an adoptive grandparent to little Mary. Oh, he's pleased Dick and Barbara are happy, but he's not exactly the best at domesticity.

"I tend to work more with Peter and Jessica. Not only is the latter a top SHIELD agent herself, but we all have that whole spider thing in common as well, you know. Having said that, the IADC often works alongside us, when American security or world peace are threatened. Diana and I are friends and, when we are in the same city, we do meet up for coffee or something stronger."

Richard was different to most men Regina, Emma and Mary Margaret had met. It wasn't just the special powers he shared with his two colleagues from Nemesis, but his wry, affable charm and polite, although often blunt, manner. Discussing the process by which Storybrooke would be brought into the diplomatic fold with him, Craig and Sharon was a pleasure.

"We shall arrange for the three of you, plus David and young Henry to address the Council first and then discuss how to have you recognised by the United Nations," Richard told them.

"Richard, that sounds perfectly reasonable." Regina responded. "Are there other such countries?"

"Themyscira, the home of our friend in the star-spangled swimming costume, is an island in the midst of the Bermuda Triangle. It was recognised by the Council first and has UN recognition. There's also Pellucidar, Zanthodon, Shangri-La, Atlantis, Maple White Land and a few others.

"All of these places can send representatives to the council and, at least in private, contact the UN. That is our proposal for Storybrooke."

"We would be honoured to accept," Regina finished. Her friends both nodded.

"In that case," Richard extended his hand, "Welcome aboard."

Regina took his hand and shook it warmly.

"By the way, Regina," Richard continued, "Wednesday has had to contact the American magical authorities. Using magic to kill non-magical people without good cause is a serious crime. Whilst the death of that ringleader was in battle, what we presume happened to Kurt Flynn was simply murder. Since, however, you have never been registered as an American witch, they are happy to not press any charges for any past actions outside of Storybrooke, which is under whatever legal system you have internally. They are going to send you, Emma, Mr Gold and any other witches or wizards a copy of the International Statute of Secrecy to follow in non-magical areas. Also any disputes involving non-Storybrooke natives should be referred to the White Council (the wizard UN) or to the Council."

"We will read the Statute and follow it," Regina assured him. "Unless we are in a situation similar to that with the ex-Home Office, external relations shall be dealt with via the correct channels." Emma nodded in agreement.

The deal was done.

The following day, Emma escorted Wonder Woman into the Sheriff's Office. Richard had told her that Diana had non-torture methods of interrogation that were 100% effective.

Once again, a manacled Scrubb was brought forward. Wonder Woman lassoed him and tightened the magical lariat.

"As you know," the superheroine told the struggling captive, "You must answer any question and do so truthfully whilst bound in my lasso. Now, what were your plans?"

"As I said before," Scrubb scoffed, "To search the records of this place to find a way to banish all magic from the earth. Then we would kill all mages, fairy tale characters and other freaks who hadn't cleared off back where they belong.

"Then we can start on the mutants, the meta-humans, the resident extra-terrestrials and God only knows what else they have on _our_ world."

Emma stared at him incredulously. "Even the children?"

"Children grow up," Scrubb retorted.

"Not always," Wonder Woman noted.

"Whatever," Emma replied firmly, "You will not be a threat to us in Storybrooke ever again."

"Are you going to kill us?" Scrubb exalted. "Martyrdom! Our deaths will live on in song and story!"

"No, Captain Harkness has given me samples of a wonderful drug." Wonder Woman smiled thinly. "He calls it 'Retcon.' Apparently, it does just what it says on the label!"

A couple of days later, the former prisoners were found wandering the Maine forests. They seemed to have no memory of the last fortnight. After seeing that their clothes were marked by tags with a distinctive dotted "T" pattern, the revived Home Office's surviving leadership decided not to push things further. Getting involved in a contest of wills with the very dangerous Captain Jack Harkness was not high on their agenda, particularly when those who had fled before they could be captured and drugged or worse reported who else was involved. Taking on both the mages, Wonder Woman and the Black Widow as well was considered suicidal.


	5. Epilogue: A Speech

February 2015

 _Hello. This is Rex Milligan reporting for The Quibbler. My source, Jigger or Johnson, J.I.G. as he was listed on the register back at Sheldrake Grammar School, told me that the former Evil Queen from Snow White (the one with the Seven Dwarves, not the one who was Rose Red's sister, for those who have their fairy tales confused) was going to be making a speech to the United Nations (the muggle White Council). Thinking him less than entirely sober, I called him an addle-pated clodpoll and suggested he go easy on the bitter. Then I heard the same from a well-placed source in the World Intelligence Network (a sort of international body of Aurors, for those wizards not au fait with the muggle security and intelligence services), the said lady having come into our world about thirty years ago, bringing most of Storyland with her. Following a hush-hush operation against some fanatics sent by those ossified oiks from the so-called Home Office, it was all arranged for Storyland to enter the real world, as it were. It is almost like "When a knight won his spurs" in reverse, if you follow me (or know the old hymn by Jan Struther, the one that's sung to the tune of "Sweet England" and got trotted out each St George's Day back at Sheldrake). Finally, Harry Potter confirmed this. Seeing as he is the last wizard to invent stories (the scars on the back of his hand from that nasty quill have given him a reputation for honesty and integrity – however many years that woman got, it was some twenty years too few if you ask me), I decided to take the matter seriously._

 _So here I am in the Gay Dolphin Hotel in Rye, in the old smugglers' secret room in the attic. This is now Jon Warrender's communications centre for the Paranormal Investigations Bureau. This was set up with the assistance of the Diogenes Club (a gentleman's club which deals with unearthly threats to the realm) and affiliated to the American Federal Bureau of Investigations' "X-Files Division" (American muggle Aurors who investigate the supernatural) and Scotland Yard's Department of Queer Complaints. Perhaps that last one should change its name, as it sounds like a division of homophobes. Not that I can complain, they did set me on the path of that yeti in Tooting and that haunted house. Oh wait, the latter was faked – I should have known from the second Mystery Inc. turned up that, after a couple of searches for clues and an unlikely trap, the 'ghost' would turn out to be a caretaker with a Halloween costume and a grudge. Good fun, though – that Daphne's a superb reporter, albeit the most jeopardy-friendly person I have ever met. It's also good that the Quibbler's editorial staff does not feature Tony Vincenzo – unlike the original Karl Kolchak, I have no desire to be fired and rehired five times in twenty minutes on a daily basis, even when a ghost is genuine. Mind you, I suppose he had no desire to be fired either._

 _Jon is setting things up, that mane of untidy blonde hair unchanged from way back when. His wife Penny is providing drinks to me and Richard Morton of the Clarion. Richard's here as a scribe for the Bureau. The Clarion has a less exclusive readership than the Quibbler. We are not available in any decent newsagent, unless said shop is in Diagon Alley. Come to think of it, do they sell the Clarion in any wizard stores? It's a good read. James Wilson, their editor, has printed some of my own exploits in the past. Don't worry, I wrote nothing that broke the Statute of Secrecy. Richard's Romany wife Fenella is sitting next to him, drinking a rich claret. George is bouncing up and down in glee. Honestly, she still acts like the schoolboy she never was, if you catch my drift. Jigger is playing with Ranji, the monkey he rescued from a cruel barrel-organist back in the Fourth Form. Whilst he is rather less freckle-nosed and inky-fingered these days, my red-headed best mate is still useless in a beauty competition, not that he would enter one. Richard's elder brother David is Skyped (a sort of muggle mirror-call) in from Witchend in Shropshire. That celebrated lone pine in the grounds is still standing, by the way. Ah, the old days! The Lone Pine Club, the Famous Five, the Secret Seven and so on. To think that youngsters could chase criminals – now, I wouldn't want any grandchildren of mine pursuing terrorists and drug smugglers. Whatever happened to the days when it was art and jewellery thieves, blackmailers and foreign spies? We caught a couple of felons at Sheldrake too, you know. Personally, I blame Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, the Bobbsey Twins and the rest of their ilk. They set us all a bad example._

 _The Baker Street Irregulars, another bunch of former child sleuths, were running a live feed from New York via Old Park House and forwarding it to East Sussex and Shropshire. Dan Robinson, still being on friendly terms with the owner Sir Jasper Ryde after helping him out with an art robbery and a fake haunting, has now turned his fellow not so juvenile detectives into a high-tech detective agency, now based in an a converted out-building at the old manor house. He still uses the logic he learned from reading Dr Watson's accounts of his own great-grandfather's adventures and after whose team of "Street Arabs" he named his own group. Funnily enough, Dan didn't know about his ancestry at the time – it was only when he met his first cousin a couple of times removed Sir Dennis Nayland Smith much later that he learned the truth._

 _"_ _We should be ready in time for the address," Dan promised. Tall, slim and dark, he looked like a less hook-nosed version of Great-Granddad Sherlock. The fair-haired duo (now a married couple) of Jeff and Liz were busy in the background, with Mickey at least trying to look occupied. Actually, given that all of the Lone Pine Club not in this room are visible behind David in Witchend and I can see George's cousins with Dan and company, this is almost young detectives reunited. Maybe Jig should have asked the likes of Boko, Alfie and Staggers to bolster the Old Sheldrakian presence (not that either Dan or Jon would have let the latter anywhere near their computers and other gadgets)? Failing that, he could have brought the battered old bath towel with "Sheldrake for Ever" written in red paint across it that served as our flag in mock battles with the Secondary Tech, or Junior Colts rugger matches with the same. Ye olde banner must be little more than a tattered napkin these days._

 _Before you could say "Fossilised Fishhooks!" the inside of the relevant secret "closed" chamber in the UN Headquarters in New York came into view. A beautiful brunette was standing near the podium, being introduced by the Secretary General (the United Nations "merlin"). This is Regina Mills, the former Evil Queen. She seems harmless enough, but per Harry Potter can stick her hand into your chest, remove your heart and use it to control, torture and/or even kill you. She sounds like the Birk in a bate! Rest in peace, Mr Birkinshaw. I would never have started in journalism without you._

 _Anyway, here she is, getting up to talk. I'll let you read it in her words._

Unaware of the Quibbler's muggle correspondent watching from East Sussex, Regina grinned nervously as she stood at the microphone. Henry and Emma were in the front row, with a number of her new friends seated around the hall. Jack Harkness was sitting with Kate Stewart of UNIT, whilst Diana was in her civilian identity running security with the IADC. Wednesday Addams was leading an Auror detail, Natasha Romanoff a SHIELD team and Craig Sterling a Nemesis one. Finally, Mac and Joe were sitting next to Henry and Emma. The W.I.N.'s Most Special Agent was giving his friend an encouraging smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Regina began, "I came to this world, uninvited, as I can now admit to myself as well as others. I was on a several decade case of PMT, trying to get my own happily ever after, largely by stopping everyone else from getting theirs. The fact that there might be people here already, including wizards and mutants, aliens and meta-humans, had never occurred to me. For that, I am truly sorry.

"The attempts on us Storybrooke folk led by agents of the so-called Home Office would have led to me treating any approach with caution. To the gallant defenders who risked their lives against our foes, know that the people of Storybrooke are forever in your debt. You are all hereby made honorary citizens of Storybrooke and shall be issued with medals for bravery in due course.

"When the director of Nemesis asked me to establish proper diplomatic relations, I agreed. It is time to join this brave new world. A world that was nowhere near as lacking in magic and other powers as I had believed.

"With this speech, I announce I am signing the agreements to make us a full, albeit unofficial, member of the United Nations and other world organisations.

"Thank you."

As the applause rang out throughout the hall, Regina took the UN Secretary General's hand and shook it firmly.

Once again, she saw Joseph McClaine smiling his encouragement.

Another successful mission for the W.I.N.'s Most Special Agent. Storybrooke was now a recognised entity in this world.

Late March 2015

"What has been going on in the World of Men, Auntie Di?" asked Princess Athena of Themyscira. She was the daughter of Diana's younger sister Drusilla, who had been the first Wonder Girl back in the Second World War.

"Well, darling," the superheroine began, "your Auntie Donna and I have been dealing with the usual threats to world peace. Mind you, I did save a bunch of genuine characters from fairy tales some months back."

"Ooh, tell me more!"

Diana explained about Storybrooke to her niece.

"So, this Henry Mills, what is he like?"

Her Aunt smiled. "About your age, his early-to-mid teens. He promises to be quite handsome in a couple of years' time." She produced a tablet and showed her niece some photographs. "Why?"

"Get your best dress out, Auntie!" Athena smiled determinedly. "I must marry this Prince Henry of Storybrooke!"

"What!" Diana exclaimed in shock. "You've never met him! I thought that you wanted to meet any boy your grandmother arranged for you to marry first."

"Where else am I going to find a fairy tale prince, Auntie? They don't exactly grow on trees!"

"He certainly sounds like the ideal father for my great-grandchildren!" agreed Queen Hippolyta. "Tell his mothers' that they must agree to the marriage, or it will be war between them and Themyscira."

"They have put extra security measures in place!" Diana replied anxiously. "You can't enter now without seeing a magic scroll, which is in Storybrooke. In any case, they don't seem to be the people who would agree to only having daughters, who will be raised on an island that they can't visit. I've seen Emma Swan and particularly Regina Mills in battle. They are formidable enemies. Do you want her heart crushed? That is, _literally_ crushed!"

"Well," her mother announced, "The peoples of this world must decide whether they would side with the people of Storybrooke or us Amazons! Prepare for potential war!"

Diana looked at her other younger sister Donna, the second Wonder Girl and now using the nom de guerre of Troia, who stared back at her with an alarmed look on her face. Something seemed off with their fellow Amazons. Whilst a warrior race, they were not normally so aggressive without good cause. Also, whilst apparently straight, Athena had showed no such extreme desires for any boy in the past. She also seemed to prefer muscular action men to bookish dreamers, however potentially handsome they may be. Since both Donna and her had agreed, prior to their regular visits to the World of Men, that any children that either had were to be excluded from the direct succession to the throne, they and their potential spouses did not have to drink the Waters of the Spring of Artemis to ensure all offspring from that union was female. These girls would then be raised on Themyscira without any influence from the paternal side of the family, even the females. _Not that my mother would be mad enough to fight Clark for any future offspring of ours. He is much too powerful for her, particularly with both me and Lois for cheerleaders. The same goes for any children Roy and Donna may have. There seems to be something in the atmosphere in Themyscira. Someone is up to something. Who is it? What are they up to? How are they doing it? Most importantly of all, why?_

To be continued in "Storybrooke and Amazons."


End file.
